


Mr. and Mr. Smith

by OnlyHereForGallavich (orphan_account)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassins & Hitmen, Faked Death, Gallavich, Heavy Angst, Hurt Mickey, Hurt/Comfort, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Love, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-17 09:26:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11272653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OnlyHereForGallavich
Summary: Being agents from opposing employers in a relationship is less glamorous than it looks in the movies. When things go wrong, Ian is forced to make an impossible choice.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> HI!   
> I shouldn't be writing this right now- I've got two WIP's and my keyboard is messed up but I couldn't get this out of my mind, so hey.   
> this will have one more chapter, to be updated soon.  
> enjoy x

_Mr and Mrs Smith_ was Mickey’s little sister Mandy’s favourite movie growing up. Mickey had long lost count of the number of times he had sat there, watching Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie perform artistically incorrect badass-ery. She had loved the drama, and the romance, though Mickey was pretty sure she was just interested in Brad Pitt’s abs. Mickey, being the raging homosexual he was hadn’t minded them either. But when you were _living_ Mr and Mrs Smith, it wasn't quite as glamorous as the movie made it out to be. He and Ian had met while on a mission each, much like the characters in the movie. But they weren’t as oblivious as the characters were. Mickey wasn't sure which breed of dumbass you had to be to not guess the truth about someone you were married to, but whatever species it was, Ian and Mickey were not that.

 

    It took them a month to figure it out. They didn't have a fucking shotgun wedding- they dated and made out and had their honeymoon phase. Then Mickey walked into a room he thought was the bathroom at Ian's place, which instead set off a jarring alarm and tasered Mickey. Ian stammered his way through an apology, until Mickey withdrew a knife and pointed it to his neck, demanding if Ian was playing him. That night, it became clear as ice that it wasn't going to work, it _couldn’t_ work- the best relationship of Mickey’s life would have to end in contracts and armed threats. Ending it then and there would have been the logical thing to do.

 

   But when had anyone in love ever been logical? They tried it, tried staying away, tried being without each other. If they were stretched apart, they would just snap back together with even more strength. It seemed that even they, well trained in martial arts and weaponry, were weak when it came to each other.

 

    So this was their secret now; it was the thing they hid from the world, and from their employers. The same employers who demanded complete loyalty and honesty, and could kill them with a snap of their fingers. Ian and Mickey weren’t strangers to deception, their jobs required it. But lying for themselves, to protect the person they loved? That was new.

 

     So to their families, Ian managed a gym and Mickey was an accountant. Their employers were told the same lie. And it worked, it really did, at least for a while. They bought an apartment together, a place of their own where they could throw away their facades and be themselves. Mickey loved Ian in the way that teenage him had never dared to dream of. Ian meant everything to him, and he would protect that redhaired boy with vengeance if necessary.

 

    It wasn't always smooth sailing. Sometimes Mickey would come home covered in bruises and cuts, and Ian would just sigh and clean him up. Other times, it was Ian in that position, and Mickey wasn't sure he would ever get used to seeing the person he loved most in the world hurt like that. It wasn't easy being two assassins from opposing companies being in a relationship, but it was worth it, for every dorky laugh of Ian’s, every night curled up together, every whispered confession of love.

 

    But high reward meant high risk, and the boys came face to face with it after just two years together. It was a situation they were always afraid of, but always hoping it never really came. Ian’s boss found out, and coolly threatened Mickey’s company with it. Mickey’s boss wasn't happy. And when you were a professional assassin, that had more terrifying implications than usual. Ian’s boss, Mickey’s boss; they weren’t good people. They wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through heads for smaller reasons. But they didn't want to lose their best _workers_ in one fell swoop. So Mickey’s company negotiated with Ian’s to come to a solution that would scare the boys out of being with each other, and make sure they never made the same mistake again. And so, a scene right out of anyone’s worst nightmare’s played out.

 

 

///

 

 

    The day started off like any other. Mickey didn't have a job that day, and neither did Ian. That meant a lazy morning where they could wake up late and make love before they even got up for the day. They had been having more of those days recently, what with the boys having a rather dry spell career-wise. They didn't mind. There was a part of Mickey that felt like drawing out of the game altogether on mornings like these- wondering what it would feel like to have Ian in his arms every morning just like this, no stress, no worries. Ian would bring it up every now and then, but the planning would always die down after a little while. They had their own idle daydream, though. A beach house in Florida; Ian the fitness trainer and Mickey the accountant, for real this time. They even had the house identified, a ramshackle beach house that they would probably spend more money repairing than it was worth. But it had been on the market for nearly year, almost like it was waiting for them. That was the dream. Being free and safe- that was the dream.

 

    That dream came crashing down. They got up, way past eleven, not bothering to get dressed for what they thought would be a happy, lazy day. And then the bell rang, Ian opened it, and everything changed in mere seconds.

 

    In a split second, there was a gun against Ian’s neck as armed, uniformed men stormed into their home. Mickey, who was sitting obliviously at the kitchen counter, didn’t even realise what was happening until three men barged into the room and grabbed him, kicking and screaming. All he was thinking was Ian, _Ian_ he had to be safe. He could hear Ian screaming his name from somewhere in the house Mickey couldn’t recognise. Everything was so fast and panicked, he barely had time to fight back before he was being dragged out of their home, still in his boxers, still wondering whether Ian was safe.

 

 

///

 

 

    Ian was scared- no, he was fucking terrified. Not because there were multiple guns pointed at him. Not because he was surrounded by way more people than he could fight. But because he had watched Mickey being dragged off into the morning light, away from him, and somewhere Ian couldn’t protect him. He knew Mickey could take care of himself, but was probably just as helpless as Ian himself was in this situation. Ian had already tried questioning their assailants, to no avail. So now he was just sitting, waiting for _someone_ to tell him where his lover was.

 

    When Ian was taken to where Mickey was, he almost wished he hadn’t. The situation he was in, it was the stuff of nightmares- the stuff of _Ian’s_ nightmares, whenever he imagined their boss’ finding out. Ian and Mickey didn't exactly have bosses who would win Employer of the Month. As Ian watched the situation unfold, he realised with sickening clarity that this stunk of _both_ of them. Ian knew they must have really pissed them off if John Meggen and Tony Jameson were working together.

 

    Ian felt his breathing stop and heart quicken as the unthinkable unfolded in front of him. His _former_ boss grinned up at him maliciously. “Thought you could cheat me, kid? Fuck knows what secrets you’ve sold to this bitch.”

 

    Something in Ian growled at hearing Mickey being described so derogatorily. But there were bigger problems at hand right now. “Jameson thinks his golden boy is safe. But I figured, since you decided to be a big boy and make your own decisions, why not make this one, too?”

 

    The tall, stocky man walked right up to Ian and handed him a gun. _His_ gun, his favorite one that Mickey had gotten him on his birthday last year with a handle engraved with their names. “There you go, Ian Gallagher. You’ve got the gun, you’ve got the victims, now you choose who dies.”

 

    Ian felt something in his chest twist, and tear, as he watched both the people tied to chairs in front of him. Lip, and Mickey. The brother he had idolised, and the person he loved more than the world. If it had been a choice between putting a gun to his own head, or killing Mickey, he would’ve known his preferred one in an instant. But he could already see the fire in the eyes of both the people in front of him. Lip’s fire to survive, Mickey’s fire to instantly give himself up to save others. Both were vying to save Lip, but how could Ian be so sure? How could he... how _could he_ shoot the love of his life.

 

    Ian bent over, heaving, faced now with a choice he would never live through making, only looking up when he heard Mickey say, “It’s okay, Ian. You know what you have to do. Think of all the lives this douchebag will save when he finds the cure for cancer or whatever.” Ian sobbed out loud. He wasn't sure when the tears had began to escape, but they were streaming down his face now.

 

    Through blurry eyes, he looked up at Mickey, sitting there and telling him to save Lip. Lip, who stayed tight lipped, because he wasn't prepared to die, but he was too ashamed to say it out loud. “Mick, oh my _god,”_ Ian gasped out again; face red, eyes burning. “Oh my _god.”_

 

    Mickey’s face crumpled a little, and Ian could see him fighting to maintain composure. “It’s okay, firecrotch. We knew this would happen someday. We got- we got more than I thought, okay? I love you. I’m lucky you loved me.”

 

   Ian covered his face with his hands, and he knew he was probably bright red by now. “It’s  not enough! I have to- we have to do so much. I want to give you everything. I want our beach house. Mickey, I _can’t.”_

 

     The silent viewers behind Ian finally entered his plane of existence again. “ _Weak,”_ Meggen spat behind him, “Pathetic. You want to give him everything, right? This is what he _wants.”_

 

    And then he lifted up the gun that had once been in Ian’s limp hand, now fallen to the floor. He lifted up that symbol of Ian and Mickey’s love, and he shot Mickey through the chest.

 

 

///

 

 

    They didn't even let Ian hold him, let him say goodbye. They took away Mickey’s limp body, trailing blood that made him double up and puke all over the ground in front of him. Ian wasn't sure when he stopped screaming, when all the people around them left and only Ian was left alone with his grief. And with Lip- the person who was once his brother, now just a reminder of the loss of Mickey, _god_ Mickey was _gone_ and it was over, it was all over.

 

   Behind him, Lip approached. “Ian, I’m so sorry. I know you lo-“

 

    “Don’t.”

 

    “I just-“

 

    “ _No.”_


	2. 2

Ian didn’t get out of bed for a week. He could feel the human need for food and water creeping into his body, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His phone rang constantly, but he couldn't pick it up ; not when he knew the caller id wouldn’t read Mickey’s name, nor would a stupid, beautiful picture of his lover show up. Finally, it died and honestly, Ian kind of envied it.

Day three, and suddenly Ian’s lovely darkness was interrupted by a stream of figures who offered him sandwiches and coffee and all this other unnecessary stuff when the one thing he needed was lost to him forever. Ian wasn’t sure if they had broken the door down, or just picked the lock.

Lip had obviously told them Mickey was gone. Ian hoped he hadn’t been stupid enough to tell them the circumstances, but he was too exhausted to care. On the first night, Fiona crept into his room, lifted his heart head off the bed and into her lap. She carded her hand through his hair and it reminded him so much of Mickey that Ian shuddered. “I’m sorry, sweet face,” she had whispered, “I’m sorry he’s gone.” Ian had cried for the first time since he had gotten home.

Two weeks passed, and Ian clung to the minutes. Every one that passed was another since he had last seen, touched, breathed Mickey.

Whenever he looked at his hands, he felt like he could almost see them stained with blood. Maybe he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, but it was all his fault. It was his fault Mickey was gone. Had having Mickey as his lover been worth his life? He knew that wasn’t fair- that Mickey had wanted it too- but he couldn’t help but feel that if he had let him go, it would have saved him. Mickey's beautiful blue eyes would have been open, his full lips parted and breathing.

He doesn't blame Lip. He had chosen life, and Mickey was as hard headed as they came- he would have found a way to sacrifice himself even if that choice hadn’t been taken from him. Lip had apologised one night, and Ian had never seen his brother cry before. He didn’t want Lip to be sad; it would have killed Ian if the choice had gone there other way too. But sometimes, there's a dark part of Ian that resents his brother for not fighting, not saying one word to try and save the man Ian loved. But then that passed.

  
///

  
A month later, and he knew he had to leave. He was eating normally. Sleep was a little hard, but not completely elusive. But he was suffocating. He felt like the very air he breathed was choking him.

It was a split second decision to buy the beach house they had looked at. It was their dream- and Ian thought it would bring him closer to the man he had loved, and lost.

But the house was sold. Fucking sold. It felt like some kind of sick joke. The house had been on market for years- Mickey used to joke about it being fated for them. It was like their dream had died with Mickey.

He lost it a little that day, but he didn’t lose his resolve. He would still move to Mexico- at least halfway to the fantasy they had had.

It wasn’t hard. Being an agent, Ian formed few ties and was used to living as a nomad. He had few personal belongings. He just took the essentials, plus all the pictures together he and Mickey had amassed over the years. Just a blink later, and he was in Mexico.

He decided to visit their beach house, to see if the owner was willing to sell, or just let Ian take a look around what would have been their home. The house was all old wood and windows, just as beautiful as it looked in the pictures. He raised a fist to knock on the door.

The person who answered was not what he had expected.

  
///

  
Ian and Mickey didn’t leave the house for a week. It took Ian two days to stop pinching himself at random to be convinced this was real, and not a fantasy.

Mickey had survived the shot, and his boss had arranged for his death to be elaborately covered up. Then, he had moved to Mexico with the same idea as Ian had- to draw closer to the life they had imagined together.

Ian cried when he saw Mickey- more than he had cried since the initial days of living without him. He bent over and sobbed and didn’t say a word to Mickey until nearly an hour later. He was terrified- terrified this was a dream- that he would wake up and Mickey would be gone. Again.

The explanation was saved for later, and they just went to bed, curling up together and whispering the ‘I love you’s’ Ian had thought he had lost forever.

It was beautiful and domestic and happy and safe. Ian became a fitness trainer, and Mickey stated as an accountant. Their dream was a reality now, and it was all Ian had ever wanted.

 


End file.
